Aiyana Masla
Empty Empty
In the afternoon, high above, winter sparrows
tear at thick white clouds with their beaks
& call
tear at thick white clouds with their beaks
& call
until some small sunlight
comes, a hole in the sky the size of a bird's mouth
comes, a hole in the sky the size of a bird's mouth
exposed expanse
of empty empty
of empty empty
but the sparrows keep calling
not quite a song, not quite a song
make the light come down.
not quite a song, not quite a song
make the light come down.
In This Bed (CW: medical procedures, blood)
yield, blood
unwind flesh riot or repulsion—
you're standing to go
our grip released, both palms sweaty
veins wrist shoulder liver
gray hills, shadow valleys.
Watery, slimy yoke, squeamish smell of sanitizer
tight medical tape
needled bruises. Inward blemish
hip bone a scissor tip under the skin.
Corrugated blood, little pathways that ache
purple, agitated yellow.
The romance washed out.
A loose strand of hair, lint, static.
I look up at you
let forward into worried, uncharted territory
smell unknown red
wilderness in, out
(no excuse now) the rough edge yields the softest part.
Meeting & meeting, like waves & sand
pulled, entropy
an ugly tension
unwind flesh riot or repulsion—
you're standing to go
our grip released, both palms sweaty
veins wrist shoulder liver
gray hills, shadow valleys.
Watery, slimy yoke, squeamish smell of sanitizer
tight medical tape
needled bruises. Inward blemish
hip bone a scissor tip under the skin.
Corrugated blood, little pathways that ache
purple, agitated yellow.
The romance washed out.
A loose strand of hair, lint, static.
I look up at you
let forward into worried, uncharted territory
smell unknown red
wilderness in, out
(no excuse now) the rough edge yields the softest part.
Meeting & meeting, like waves & sand
pulled, entropy
an ugly tension
then loose
your smile, a kind of miracle.
your smile, a kind of miracle.
I Am Not Ready, Yet
After Aracelis Girmay & Joy Harjo
I will not say goodbye
not even in early mornings filling with steam
not even in early mornings filling with steam
light
the thrill of my waking body. I couldn't yet
not yet not yet I have work to do it is not over neighborhoods
to get to know. I have to taste the ocean again I still have to do big more generous with
joy tell him the truth Not yet I want to hear her hearty laugh again & I want to show my
paintings to your mother It's not too late fresh baking bread & lemons & your breath
sweet from fruit juice you
promised to take me to that old restaurant in Red Hook with the jazz singer in summer I
want to watch you eat mussels marinara hard laugh salt & cold water I am not ready yet
Walk walk & walk until we're blistered Wind also I might be terrified but the bathroom
floor isn't clean & the laundry basket is full I don't want you to be left with the chores
not yet I want the smell of the library the sound of my boots in snow in a quiet forest a
poem knocking the breath out of me your weight crushing me on the couch the print of
pillow-cheek in the morning cedar & coffee my family together all together again I am
not ready Not ready sun through the window the kindness of strangers to run once
more! Spontaneous dancing lipstick there is too much to do yet still, to undo just fire or
a crowded pulsing room where I have to shout to be heard over sweaty thumping music.
Don't let me forget I want one more spring afternoon & then another
another.
Perhaps that is where I will linger, when I do become everything & nothing
the thrill of my waking body. I couldn't yet
not yet not yet I have work to do it is not over neighborhoods
to get to know. I have to taste the ocean again I still have to do big more generous with
joy tell him the truth Not yet I want to hear her hearty laugh again & I want to show my
paintings to your mother It's not too late fresh baking bread & lemons & your breath
sweet from fruit juice you
promised to take me to that old restaurant in Red Hook with the jazz singer in summer I
want to watch you eat mussels marinara hard laugh salt & cold water I am not ready yet
Walk walk & walk until we're blistered Wind also I might be terrified but the bathroom
floor isn't clean & the laundry basket is full I don't want you to be left with the chores
not yet I want the smell of the library the sound of my boots in snow in a quiet forest a
poem knocking the breath out of me your weight crushing me on the couch the print of
pillow-cheek in the morning cedar & coffee my family together all together again I am
not ready Not ready sun through the window the kindness of strangers to run once
more! Spontaneous dancing lipstick there is too much to do yet still, to undo just fire or
a crowded pulsing room where I have to shout to be heard over sweaty thumping music.
Don't let me forget I want one more spring afternoon & then another
another.
Perhaps that is where I will linger, when I do become everything & nothing
dispersed.
In the sweet cloying
air of peonies, blooming.
In the sweet cloying
air of peonies, blooming.
Willow bed
discarded slippers / open window
tangled braid / shimmer field
tangled braid / shimmer field
Push open the door / rush of empty
day stretches out, trembles & bends
day stretches out, trembles & bends
damp harvest singing low
piercing mineral / cold swamp
blurred horizon, many tiny eyes
blurred horizon, many tiny eyes
the thick of forest. Step outside, barefoot
frost burning / soft arches
frost burning / soft arches
carry an empty basket, confusion falling away,
breathing.
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